


a foregone conclusion

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Diplomacy, F/M, Grey Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: The First Order delegation arrives late to the peace talks on the Chiss homeplanet; a series of stormtroopers march in followed by General Hux, two Grand Moffs, a grand admiral Rey doesn’t recognize, and then--It is the first time she’s seen him since theSupremacy. The first time she’s seen him as the Supreme Leader. He looks sullen and bored, but his eyes light up when he sees her and his gaze never leave hers. A tell that she appreciates. Like any warrior, she likes to know her enemy’s weaknesses.





	a foregone conclusion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for May the Fourth 2018!  
> Many thanks to Trish47 and th_esaurus <333

The First Order delegation arrives late; a series of stormtroopers march in followed by General Hux, two Grand Moffs, a grand admiral Rey doesn’t recognize, and then--

It is the first time she’s seen him since the _Supremacy_. The first time she’s seen him as the Supreme Leader. He looks sullen and bored, but his eyes light up when he sees her and his gaze never leave hers. A tell that she appreciates. Like any warrior, she likes to know her enemy’s weaknesses.

Next to her, the General clears her throat, and Rey remembers that this may be the first time a mother’s seen her son in _years_.

It’s an auspicious day.

“We shall begin.” The Chiss host, Laub’ree’aweyrs, says with a quiet voice that commands immediate attention. When Kylo looks away, looks at their host, Rey suddenly feels bereft of something--- something she can’t name.

Perhaps she has a weakness too.

*  
Talks of peace continue for hours and with little progress. Other than the obvious fact that it hasn’t broken out into fisticuffs. The Chiss are excellent facilitators if imperfect hosts. Rey’s stomach growls with hunger. She’s starved before, sobbed with the agony of it, and so missing lunch isn’t an exact hardship, but she has recently grown accustomed to three square meals.

“Honorable host,” Kylo says after saying nothing since he walked into the room. “There should be a respite before we continue further. Bring us to food and wine.” The shocking imperious nature of his tone makes everyone flinch, but Rey can feel relief emanate from every human and humanoid in the room at the thought of a rest.

The Chiss host makes a face of annoyance, and then claps her hands. A hostess for each delegation appears and directs each side to a different doorway. Everyone departs, looking over their shoulder, but still walking quickly for refreshment.

Everyone but Rey and Kylo.

Five guards appear out of nowhere; not threatening them, but making it apparent that a fight will not be tolerated on this sacred space. For even without their lightsabers, two Force wielders are a danger.

He keeps his distance but somehow she can feel the heat of his body; perhaps just a memory of when--

“Why do you not eat?” he says. “I can feel your hunger.”

Her eyes narrow and she builds stronger shields. “Why did you agree to these talks?” she counters.

Something about him softens but she’s not sure-- not entirely sure why. There’s a quirk of movement at the corners of his lips. “My expectations for the opening volleys were low. But I have hope.”

“For a reconciliation with the rebel scum you’ve resented and hated your entire life?” she says, and not without acid.

He smiles then, a strange expression for his face, and she feels somewhat apprehensive. “I have hope.” He stares for quite a time, a lingering gaze that appraises her and seems to consume her as well. Then he turns on his heels.

She watches him leave, watches him touch the doorframe, turn back and look at her with an amused expression, and then continue on.

Her heart, oh her heart is a strange sort of drum.

*  
The talks continue. Hours later: “I am done with this discussion,” he says; again, the first time he’s spoken since they’ve sat down. “If the Jedi Rey agrees to be my wife, we will agree to the Princess’ terms.”

A shock wave rattles the room and whispers begin in earnest. Finn rises to his feet and Poe follows him.

“I object,” Grand Admiral Ysta says. “This was not--” and she’s silenced by a risen hand from her Supreme Leader. The room crackles with energy, and everyone remembers what a Force wielder can do when crossed.

One of the Grand Moffs chuckles and leans back in his chair. “I second the Supreme Leader. We need a queen and she’ll do.”

“You cut us at our knees,” Leia says quietly, “And Rey is not a bargaining chip.”

“We will agree to your terms,” Kylo replies. “All of them.” His gaze is steady, and Rey can feel his resolve, immovable.

What she feels: an invasive numbness growing from the pit of her stomach and growing to each of her limbs. A sort of dead feeling that overwhelms, that arrests the heart and lungs. Stuns her every sensation.

What she says: “If you can beat me in battle, I will leave with you. If I win, you leave with me.”

“No,” is a chorused word across the room but Kylo rises to his feet, bows in the Jedi way. “I agree.”

And that, _that_ is when Rey smiles.

*  
The Chiss are not happy but they prepare a sparring field and allow each to carry one lightsaber. Kylo sets his down and approaches her, his arms at his side. She steels herself, sets down her saber, and walks towards him.

They meet in the middle, and she listens intently to his heart; a steady, even beat. “I don’t want to fight you,” he says. “I want peace.”

“ _You_ want peace.” She tilts her head to the side, the feeling of disbelief sharp in her belly. The dark side is flowing through her like water in a stream and she feels her chest rise and fall as her breathing escalates. “You’ve tasted my blade before. Why risk this?” She opens her mind then, wide as a vast desert, and all she can sense is his curiosity and his courage. Her hands become fists.

“We can settle this, you and I. Right here,” he says, leaning in closer. She breathes him in and feels her fury grow.

“I’m not choosing to go with you, Kylo,” she hisses, her face inching towards his.

And he shrugs, his mouth close to hers now. “It would be so easy.”

She edges even closer. Close enough to kiss. “You afraid to meet me in battle?”

“I’m never afraid.” A simple _lie_. She knows him better than this.

“Fine,” she says.

“Fine,” he says.

And he kisses her on the mouth.

*  
For those watching, lightsabers have never sailed so fast into the hands of Force wielders, never alit so fast, never slammed into the blade of their opponent so fast.

*  
She’s blind with rage as she batters him with her saber, following his footsteps and working to weaken him as quickly as she can. It’s impossible, his calm in comparison to her frenzy; she’s stronger than him by far, but he’s nimble.

Round and round they go, him an expert at battle and her filled with such a raw power. She wins first blood, her saber cutting at his thigh, but he rewards her with a burn along her cheek.

A spin, a parry, a block; a barrage of attacks. The hum of their sabers clashing fierce against each other. All in the hope for peace.

She traps him, has a hand on his waist and her blade at his throat before he bends miraculously and avoids the killing blow, trips her up and escapes.

“Yield,” he says.

“Never.”

Fighting Kylo now is different from the first time; he’s fresh and steady, she’s the wild one. Unstable in this battle for-- for herself if not just peace for a galaxy. Still, she blocks his every move and she burned him more than once with her blade. He will need time in bacta after this.

And yet, he smiles.

He gets too close, pushes on her shoulder and wrecks her balance. She falls, she crashes to the floor and, in the utter shock of it, her hand releases and there goes her saber, clattering away from her. Red shards of light fill her vision as his saber moves and holds just over her throat.

She’s not finished. Her hand tightens so hard, she can feel her fingernail dig into the palm of her hand, and Kylo gasps for breath, choked.

He keeps the saber on her with one hand as the other clutches irrationally, hopelessly at her invisible grip at his neck.

“A stalemate,” the Chiss host says. “If neither yield, neither win.”

She stares up at him now. Sees him stare down at her with something serene in his gaze. Rey’s unable to yield, unable to kill him. And he’s-- he-- gasps as if she tighten her grip, when she hadn’t at all, and drops his saber to the ground.

An act, a performance. And only she knows the Supreme Leader of the First Order just gave in to her. Gave into her _mercy_.

Rey leaps to her feet, reaches for her saber and places it in her belt. “Yield,” she says quietly.

His eyes never leave hers as he nods.

And the whole room erupts.

*  
In moments, startling and alarming, she finds herself back to back against Kylo Ren once more; fighting for her life against those of the First Order. “Why are you--” she starts.

He finishes: “--because I’m yours now.”

That’s when the other shoe drops. She realizes: this was, this had always been his plan.

|||||||


End file.
